she waded into ocean of high tides

gray clouds in sky at half mast

poetry of soul floats with her

her brow adorned with seashells

tears mingling with salty sea

wind cradled her last breath

foam smiles adorned crested waves

splashing in depths toward bliss

stepping into aqua ocean peace

new beginnings in soothing seas

ship of death sailed into horizon

as soul windows opened wide

and silence seeped below water

absent heartbeat clothed by

skin of the sea as she becomes

one with caressing ocean streams

Can you hear the sound of metallic footsteps approaching? Or see the ghosts of your departed loved ones?

Then know that it’s coming. Riding on a golden horse. One that seems to shine more than the blazing sun!

Will you take death’s hand? Ride away to another realm. A place of rest after life on earth.

#MORT~

Aurora Orchestra - Mozart Requiem:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=SjJ3OsgNytA&feature=youtu.be

~ Death looks like

the end

of pain and suffering

and its beginning

for those

left behind.

Death looks like

the end of tears

and tears

without an end.

Death looks like

resting

in eternal peace

and wrestling

an eternity

for peace.

Death looks like

a hallowed place

within

a hollowed space;

~

l i k e

the sun, orange,

losing all of its

borrowed time,

leaving only

~

~~~~~waves of sorrow to rhyme~~~~~

*****

photo credit: video hive dot net

And once again I find myself back on the same road walking aimlessly with no destination to reach to.  

A highway where there is no existence of light, life, love, laughter and loyalty.  

A highway where is no evidence of pureness, righteousness, spirituality or God.

A highway that reeks of darkness, death, hatred, sadness and betrayal.  

A highway where there is no escaping from but doomed forever. 

A hypnagonic state of mind I cannot seem to free myself from no matter how hard I try.  My cries for help goes unanswered despite both my hands raised begging.

My body aches from battle wounds that never seem to heal. My bare feet bleeds from walking on hell’s road garnished with spikes and broken glass. My bruised hands hurt from shielding the impact of my falls. 

The only sounds and vibrations that continuously keep me company are the shuffling of feet coming from the lucipherous demons who continuously dance around me. 

The sniggering laughter each time I fall from being shoved by one of them.

My one wing luminiferous angel fought hard and died a heroic death.  As I held him in my arms and wept, he begged for my forgiveness for failing in his warrior's oath and duty to protect me.

A slow and lingering death the warrior bearer of light died from as I watched the lucipherous demons greedily feast and suck the energy out of him. 

“Narasoma” they chanted in union as they drank from the nectar of immortality.  Each time the Cup of Life was filled and gulped from, I died a hundred deaths.

Each pain and suffering inflicted on my dying angel shot through my body a thousand times more for our souls were still bound by the spiritual umbilical cord.

Whispers of immortality echoed in the air.  The lucipherous demons watched in glee as my earthly blood was used to sharpen the blade.

The chanting became more and more frenzied as the sword was slowly raised high.

I looked at my dying angel for the last time and asked “Why me? What sins have my soul committed for God to have handed down such a severe sentence? 

He whispered, “You have been loved.”

Tangy and bitter

Like coffee with orange

Sweet yet salty

Like salted caramel

Vanilla with a hint of the sea

This is the life of you and of me.

Thick and smooth

Like water-strewn sand

Fluid and delicate

Like gossamer strands

Spider’s web and oceans free

This is the life of you and of me.

Zenith and abyss

Opposites become same

Sunrise and twilight

Rising up in flame

The beat of your heart is calling to me

This is the life of you and of me.

Delicious regrets

A delectable taste

No forward remorse

As it’s no good to waste

I will flourish and set you free

This is the death of you, but not me!

The thoughtless silence, a growing peace.

Gently floating on a flat sea.

I stare into the dark sky, watching my life play by, a movie projected on the heavens.

An emptiness like no other filling a void deep inside my soul, a sinking ship, a titanic. Waves of sorrow with no emotion, only a creeping cold, a ghastly shiver.

A rush of adrenaline a high with no feeling.

Just a deep dread for the living, for I no longer have a body.

Only a lost soul, drifting towards an unseen destination.

I was in shock when I heard it for the first time, I wasn't crying I started doing the dishes. I heard it in the morning and haven't see her till night. I haven't even stepped inside and I started crying. She looked as she was sleeping, her skin gray. Her face like marble I was just crying. She looked so peaceful, it was so unnatural so sickening. I just wanted to run away from that closed eyes.

my bones melted into clay. the clay was rich and fertile. my hair entangled with the grass. the grass was abundant and green. my blood enriched the soil. the soil sparkled anew, ready to bring forth life. my skin melted through the rocks. the rocks were stained with youth. my thoughts dispersed with the wind. the wind became wise. my soul is nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

A prayer.

A lie.

A kiss.

A lover.

A sad song.

A fogotten melody.

Death is the inevitable forthcoming measure of our lives. A step into the cinema of our memories spread out before us. A kind, patient friend waiting for us and our time to end. Death understands how beautiful life is, the wonders of the world, and the simple pleasures of crisp air in dewdrop mornings. Sometimes, we can be so caught up in the world, so lost in ourselves, we end up hating endings. We become so afraid of the last page between covers, knowing once we're done we have to set that book down. Or maybe, there is just something left over, something haunting us that we can't let go. Maybe it's him, or her. His warm arms extended in an embrace, or her smile over a hot coffee cup.

For me, death is something I often long for, not because life was excruciating...but it wasn't enough. I'm left with the feeling of not belonging in a world so full of ideals often clashing with my own. The pain from being an outsider in everyday life. In my life. Just tired of the world screaming over my thoughts, until I can't hear myself anymore. That doesn't mean I'm not afraid.

I often dream of death, almost every night. Not because I'm suicidal, but I long for new beginnings. I dream that when I close my eyes, I'll awaken to a new scene. Not surrounded by my demons, but the clear white snow. I dream of an innocence I have long since lost. If I could die today to be renewed tomorrow, I would.

Yet, I am afraid.

Death is a friend to me. He sings me melodies that help me sleep when I'm terrorized by the living. All the monstrosities I've seen have left me half convinced I'm living in a reality of breathing, thriving hell. I live in a world I have no control over, and everything can hurt me. Not because I am fragile, but because I believe there's still good in a world that often takes advantage of my kindness. Yet, I continue to bleed for those special moments. As long as I can see you tomorrow, still able to grin at me.

I walk hand-in-hand with death, who often reminds me of what I'll leave behind. Without Death, I would have never known life. I wouldn't have known him, or her, or you. So I shouldn't be afraid when you finally left. I couldn't stop it even if I tried. There was just too much venom in your lungs, in your wounds and in your heart that you couldn't stay besides me. You weren't a little bit cracked, or even broken. You were demolished by what this world forced you to withstand.

I shouldn't be afraid, and yet I am. Death stood by my side when I watched you leave. Right then, he was my only comforting friend because I knew when you crossed my world to his, you would never be alone.

At the beginning, I was probably naive. Now, I understand what I didn't know. Death had been a montser to me at first, but he became a friend. I can't blame him for all he's taken, because he can never hold life in his hands, but he can hold souls. Yours, mine, and everybody, with the most gentle care I've ever seen something so beautifully fragile been held.

Death led him away from me. Her away from me. You away from me. Someday, he will lead me away from someone else. I love you. I've never really loved myself though. Until Death came in a dream and whispered in my ear all life had let him see. So when I awaken next, maybe I could have that new beginning I always longed for. I wouldn't feel like an outcast anymore. I'd be seeing the world in a new perspective. Maybe, just maybe, I'll be watching, but this time by your side again.

Death is a desperate prayer in the moonlight.

Death is a truth to the lies I tell myself all the time.

Death is a reminder that all kisses are ephemeral.

Death is a coy lover with whimsical promises.

Death is a sad song I listen to when I'm alone

Death is a forgotten melody from aged memories.

This is not goodbye.

I'll see you again.

Death is only a concern for the living and it feels like loneliness and abandonment. People always fade away from my life, even the ones who would never abandon me in life leave in death. Death right now, for me, is every text I receive at work or at home. With my grandma being in the horrible shape she is, and her sister up in Wisconson, taking care of her...I get an update here and there. The last one described how my grandmother’s lungs are full of fluid, the cancerous spots were revealed to have doubled in size, according to the latest CT scan, and the medicine that’s supposed to encourage her appetite might be working, but the other treatments cause a weakening of the muscles, including the ones used to swallow. Even if she wants to eat, it’s damn near impossible.

Death looks like a nauseating train ride straight through hell that will never pull back in to the station, so you figure you’ll jump off sometime and be okay. Then one day it dawns on you that you left your favorite jacket on the train and it’s never coming back. The one jacket in the world that made you feel warm on the coldest days, brought out the color of your eyes, and comforted you more than anything else in the world ever could. That jacket. But when it’s gone, there is nothing like it. But clothing comes and goes, sometimes we outgrow it and still keep it around. Sometimes it’s too big and we have to grow into it to see how well it really fits. Sometimes you lose the person... I mean, the jacket...you are most fond of in the entire world. The jacket you turn to, to hide you from the world and protect you from anything that could ever hurt you or bring you down.

Death just fucking sucks and it looks like a wellworn jacket abandoned on a train seat, but you move on and continue being good to yourself. That’s all there is.

And all there will ever be.